


You Can Never Go Home

by oceanwideopen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Brother-Sister Relationships, Miscarriage, Murder, Rhaenys lives, Suicide, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanwideopen/pseuds/oceanwideopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the rest of the realm, she will go down in history as the forgotten Dornish Queen, but to her family, her children, she will always been known as someone much more. </p><p>AU! The many lives, husbands, and children of Rhaenys Targaryen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rhaenys

_i. Rhaenys_ _Stark_

She cries when her father announces that she is to marry Lord Stark’s oldest son.

She wants nothing to do with the whole lot of them. She does not care for the whole family, damn them all. Her mother sits beside the man she is forced to call her husband and she does not looked pleased one bit.

She hears her parents yelling at each other late at night, shouting about those bloody Starks.

“Marrying her to the Starks will not fix a single thing, Rhaegar!” yelled Elia. She was shocked to hear such power coming from her mother.

“The Starks are an old and noble family,” snapped Rhaegar. “They are Wardens of the North, and are renowned for their strength and loyalty –“

“Oh, do not give me that speech,” interrupted Elia. “Save that for Aegon and Viserys, I know they are just as angry with you as I am. The boy is three years younger than Rhaenys and she will be so far away from King’s Landing, from home. Will you send your daughter so far away from home just to apologize for what you have done to Lyanna?”

Rhaenys had never heard that name spoken before in the presence of her parents. She had known of that woman, who she was, what she meant to Rhaegar and Elia, but no one had dared utter her name in fear of the King, and especially the Queen.

Despite Elia’s numerous protests, she is shipped off to the North, leaving beside the warmth of the South, her home and her family. 

* * *

 

The North is a wasteland covered in snow and she hates it, hates the Northerners and their stares. The Stark family is waiting for them outside their dreaded looking castle and she feels her mother stiffening beside her.

Lord Stark is solemn as everybody says he is. He politely greets Rhaegar and Elia to his home, but Rhaenys can see the masked hatred of Rhaegar behind those grey eyes. His wife, Lady Catelyn, is beautiful with her Tully features, and each of their brood favours her.

Robb Stark is barely taller than Rhaenys and he is so young. He has so much youth in his face and she will remember how old he is when he beds her. She will have to remember. He smiles at her kindly and kisses the back of her hand, which she immediately withdraws as she scans the rest of his family.

His younger sister, Sansa, is too polite and dove eyed. She dips into a curtsy that is clearly planned and rehearsed, and she blushes when introduced to Aegon and Viserys. The younger brothers, Brandon and Rickon, are courteous enough, but it is the youngest sister who she truly hates without a second thought, Arya Stark.

She sees the way her father changes when Arya is introduced. He stares at her, almost in a trance and Rhaenys wanted to scream until her throat hurts because Elia is _right_ there, and she can see the way her mother’s eyes divert towards Oberyn who looks as though he wants to slit Rhaegar’s throat and she cannot blame them. He is a fool and Lord Stark clears his throat, finally dropping his kindness towards Rhaegar and leading the so-called King towards his chambers.

The girl acts stupid, pretending as though she did not know why the King was staring at her, as though she did not know about Rhaegar and Lyanna and what caused the war and Elia’s pain. The girl cannot help the fact that she looks like a dead woman, and Rhaenys cannot help the fact that she hates both her and Lyanna Stark. 

* * *

 

When Robb wraps the cloak of House Stark around her shoulders, she cries quietly, biting her lips and squeezes her eyes shut from tears slipping any further. Lord Stark notices and pauses for a moment before she whispers, “Please continue.” He is a man of duty, surely he must understand. After all, he married Catelyn Tully out of duty as well. Robb looks worried, but Lord Stark continues on with the rest of the ceremony, and the boy seems to have forgotten her tears until the feast.

 _The audacity!_ The audacity of her father speaking with that Stark girl as though there were no repercussions! How dare he! How dare he shame her mother once again! She could see Aegon’s fists clench and his body shake at the sight of their father, but it was Elia who touched his hand gently, speaking to him softly and letting the anger wash away from his body.

Robb sees her glaring at her father and Arya, but says nothing. The bedding is called for and Rhaenys bits her tongue from screaming at the lot of them to _keep your filthy hands to yourself_!

They grab her and push her, tugging at her dress with eager hands. She closes her eyes when the material rips. The air is chilled and she finally pushes one of them away when they reach for her shifts.

“Oooo, the Dornish princess is feisty,” said one of those Northerners. “Stark is very lucky to get the chance to break you, little –“

“That’s enough,” said a low voice behind them. Jon Snow, her bastard brother, comes forward and grabs her elbow.

“You cannot tell us what to do, Snow,” snapped another man. “You may be Robb’s closest companion, but you are nothing here.”

“I am the son of the king,” hissed Jon Snow, “and Robb Stark’s cousin. I doubt he would take kindly to the fact that his supposed banner men were groping his new bride. Leave now, or I will be telling the king what has occurred here. _Leave_.”

The group of men leave sulkily, throwing daggers behind their shoulders at Jon. Once they had turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Jon pulled her along the corridors towards the chambers where Robb already was. “Best of wishes,” whispered Jon, closing the door behind him.

“Arya is not the one to blame,” Robb said softly. He has to bed her and this is the first thing he tells her? _Northerners_.

Rhaenys says nothing. She lays down on the featherbed and brings the furs closer to her body as Robb sits down as well with his back to her.

“We do not have to go further, Princess,” he said quietly. “I know you do not wish to lay with me tonight and I will not force you against your will. Once you are ready, I will be there, Princess.”

Rhaenys scowled and sits up. “It is not you I have a problem with, Lord Stark. And I will not be known as the Dornish Princess that will not do her duty. Now, please, let us get on with the night.” He looked uncertain. “You will not break me, Lord Stark. And these sheets will have to be stained in order to satisfy our guests and my family.”

Robb looks at her, his eyes scrutinizing her for a moment. She cannot tell what he is thinking. She was used to the likes of Rhaegar, Aegon, Viserys, Varys, Littlerfinger, but Robb was entirely so different. There was sincerity behind his eyes.

“Robb,” he whispered. “Call me Robb, please. I cannot imagine the thought of breaking you. I do not think you are capable of breaking, princess.”

The bed lowers further as he comes closer to her. She does not move, does not make herself comfortable. She stays still as Robb’s fingers slowly reach out towards her, gently, almost unsure. He slowly touches her jaw and slowly traces down towards her neck.

“May I kiss you, princess?”

She nods slowly. His lips are warm when he kisses her. 

* * *

 

She does not cry with her family leaves the next day, though she could feel a pain in her heart wanting to bleed out against the pale white snow. She had hugged Dany and Viserys, Prince Oberyn and her cousins. They had whispered words of encouragement while Arianne had commented on the pity of being stuck in the snow in Rhaegar’s earshot. It was easier to bid them goodbye. It was harder to leave Aegon. She had kissed her cheeks while he had refused to let her go for a while.

“I am sorry to let him leave you here,” he whispered into her shoulders. “If I were king…”

“I still would have been married off to another lord of Westeros.”

“Not like this…”

She had kissed her cheek once again and whispered, “I will miss you, brother.”

He had said nothing when Elia came forward and embraced her oldest child.

“If you need anything, send for me at once,” the Queen whispered urgently. “The Stark are noble, but the North is harsh and cold.”

Rhaenys nodded and she felt a small stream of tears slip out. She buried her face further into her mother’s shoulder, hoping that they would somehow disappear.

“I love you, Rhae,” said Elia. “My sweet summer child…”

She had barely looked at her father, barely acknowledged him as he kissed her cheek. She looked away when they began to leave Winterfell. She could not look at the sight of her family leaving. Lady Stark had tried to come forward, tried to comfort her, but Rhaenys merely smiles at her before picking up her shirt and leaving at once. She could not stand to be near any of the Starks as they tried to console her and be her new family. She wanted none of that.

She finds her way into the godswood and crouches beside the heart tree. She wondered if her new husband would want her to worship the old gods, if she wanted her to pray before this bleeding tree. She kept to the new gods, though not like her mother or aunt, but she felt oddly comfortable as she sat in silence next to the tree.

She does not know how long it took for her husband to find her, but, alas, he finds her resting her head on a log, eyes heavy with sadness and he crouches down beside her.

“I hope you find happiness here, princess,” he says. “This is not as beautiful as the South, or so I hear but Winterfell is not as terrible as the rest of the realm.”

She smiles at him. Her first genuine smile since arriving at Winterfell. She is used to the snakes at court telling her sweet lies behind their polished masks. She is used to flattery and compliments and empty promises, and while it is good to be guarded at court, it has made her a cynic at such a young age. And it has made her forget about the good men and women in the world, especially when one crouches before her, his hand held out towards her, offering her a good home.

So she takes his hand and kisses his cheek. “I hope I will be happy here as well, Robb.” 

* * *

 

And she is. Winterfell becomes her home slowly over time with the help of Robb, Ned Stark, Catelyn and the others. She spends her days reading books on the North, speaking with the maester, and running around trying to catch Rickon.

She gets to know Sansa – the ever so sweet girl – before she leaves for Highgarden, and there is a certain happiness in her when Arya is sent to the Stormlands to marry Robert Baratheon’s oldest. She tries to get along with the girl, but all she can think of is Lyanna, and then Rhaegar, and then her mother and she gets furious.

Her moon blood stops a year after her marriage to Robb and he is overjoyed at the thought of a child with her. He kisses her and her flat belly, whispering sweet words to her. Bran and Rickon are curious as to why she grows fat each day. 

* * *

 

She falls in love with Robb, slowly and carefully, as though walking into love’s arms. She does not know when it happens, but it does and the feeling of pure happiness makes her soften. He is nothing like the men before in her life. It both makes her glad for he is nothing like those at court, but she surely misses her brother and uncle with all her heart.

But when she sees Robb, sweet Robb with his brilliant eyes and a grin that will just not go away, cradle their child, she realizes she can live, she can somehow live, with the rest of her family down South because she would not give up Robb. To give up Robb was to give up their child and she could not do such a thing. 

* * *

 

Her mother arrives a few days after she gives birth to their daughter and Rhaenys names her Meria because despite being named a Stark, she is all Dornish save for her grey eyes.

“She has Ned Stark’s eyes,” commented Elia, smiling down at her granddaughter. “A bit of Stark in her rather Martell face.”

“Catelyn thinks she has Robb’s nose,” said Rhaenys.

“No,” said Elia, shaking her. “She has Dany’s nose, Visery’s lips, my eyes and Aegon’s ears. Perhaps she has the eyes of a Stark, but she is completely you and completely us.” 

* * *

_ii._ _Rhaenys Tyrell_

She has known Willas since she was a child. He was crippled, often needing the help of his walking stick. While many lords and ladies would see that as a sign of weakness but she did not. He was handsome, kind and she would always have wonderful conversations with him about history, breeding animals, and the Free Cities.

So when her father announced that she would be marry Lord Tyrell, she let herself imagine a life with him, with small children running around in Highgarden. But when her father clarified that it was Lord _Mace_ Tyrell who she would be marrying instead of Willas, those small children were snatched away from her and she stopping dreaming once again.

She said nothing against her father, merely squared her shoulders and closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths. Aegon raged for her.

“How could you sell her off like that?!” he yelled. “You would sell her off to Mace Tyrell? For what?”

“Mace Tyrell is a good man and Lord of Highgarden,” their father said calmly, unfazed by the anger from his son. “He has offered a good home for Rhaenys and their children –“

“And what will they get?” snapped Aegon. “What will Rhaenys’s children get? A few scraps of land in the Reach? He already has an heir to his seat, why not betroth her to his son, Willas?”

“He is already betrothed to Sansa Stark, and I have offered to give Dragonstone to any children Rhaenys and Mace Tyrell have.” He finally looked at her and her stony expression. “This will keep peace between the Reach and Dorne, as well as bind the Reach to the throne, Rhae. This will further solidify the connection between the Reach and the throne, and with Willas marrying Sansa, and Margaery Tyrell marrying Joffrey Baratheon, this will strengthen our ties with other families.”

Aegon scoffed at the notion. “Strengthen our ties. Yes, let us do that by marrying your only daughter off to a man more than half her age!”

“Aegon, that’s enough!” shouted Rhaegar. “Rhaenys is to marry Mace Tyrell, and I will hear no other arguments. Do I make myself clear?”

Aegon huffed and then turned to Queen Elia, who was crying silently throughout this whole ordeal. “Mother?”

She merely whispered, “I tried,” before Aegon left the chamber, slamming the door behind him. 

* * *

 

She takes the news in strides as best she could. But when Mace Tyrell comes to court with the rest of his family, she could no longer hold back. It was Dany who finds her crying in her chambers, sobbing into her pillow, shaking as gasping for breath.

“I cannot marrying him,” she wheezed uncontrollably, her face red, her eyes puffy as she continued to cry. “I cannot – why is this happening to me? I cannot marry him – please stop this – please – “

Dany calls for Elia, calls for Aegon, calls for Viserys and Ashara and everyone who will go to war for her, but in the end, no matter how much Aegon, Oberyn, Viserys and the Sand Snakes will rage for her, she has to marry Mace Tyrell. The betrothal is already set in place, the preparations have been made and she is forced to trade in her Targaryen cloak for a Tyrell one.

Mace, her oaf of a husband, kisses her cheek with a satisfying smile as she clasps her hands together tightly, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

She drinks during the ceremony and when the bedding is called for, she is well into her cups. But when her husband breaks her maidenhood, moaning on top of her, she weeps once again. Her husband stops for a moment and mentions something about being quick and he follows through. Within a few more thrusts, he is done and falls asleep next to her with his seeds inside of her. 

* * *

 

Within two months’ time, she is with child and Willas Tyrell marries Sansa Stark while Margaery leaves for Storm’s End.

She loses her child when Sansa Tyrell announces that _she_ was carrying the Heir to Highgarden. Willas looks at her lovingly while Rhaenys realizes that she will soon be made a grandmother at the tender age of twenty. Mace laughs and preparations for a celebration are made for his grandchild.

She is childless and her womb empty when she holds Leo, with beautiful curly brown hair and Tully blue eyes. Sansa is glowing and Willas is beyond ecstatic, holding his so with so much pride and happiness. 

Mace visits her every night after the birth of Leo, determined to have another child. And this is what her life has come down to, all because she was born with a cunt instead of a cock. She was sold to the highest bidder, a wealthy lord, like a horse. He makes her legs spread on commander, forcing her to carry his child. 

* * *

 

She writes to her brother days before she is due to the birthing bed, begging for him to come to her. _Please, I need you. Come at once, please. I miss you, brother, I need you._

Her son, Theo – with curly black hair and Targaryen eyes so much like Aegon’s – comes out crying in the middle of the night. She allows her brother to see her first and only Aegon.

He holds her close, kissing her hair as she silently weeps into his shoulders. The others are either sleeping or waiting outside the door and she is relieved that Mace allows her to see her brother before anyone else.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Aegon. He came to her at once, leaving everything else behind at King’s Landing. He kisses her cheek and lets her relax against the many pillows Mace orders for her. He then picks up Theo from his cot, holding her boy’s head carefully. His face brightens up when he sits down at the chair close to her and laughs when Theo cries, his face turning scarlet red. Her son begins to cough and Aegon slowly rubs his tiny chest.

“He has your eyes,” commented Rhaenys quietly when Theo opens his eyes finally, staring at Aegon.  

Mace soon enters the chamber with his mother in tow and Aegon glares at the man when he takes Theo off his arms. He rambles on about how perfect his son was, a great knight in the works, but Rhaenys pays him no attention when Olenna Tyrell is looking at her and Aegon with narrowed eyes.

The old woman can glare at her all she wants and Rhaenys will only remind her who she truly was. Olenna can declare her anything in the world – whore, bitch, unfaithful, any other insult she can think of – it will not matter. Aegon will go to war for her to defend her honour and the old hag glares at Aegon because she knows he will. 

* * *

 

Her son was strong, growing more day by day, despite the maesters saying that the sickness was draining him. They told her that he was growing weaker and weaker by day, but they were wrong. And Mace was a craven fool for listening to them. They all thought her son was weak, like his father, but no, he was strong and a fighter like her brother, like her.

She stares at her perfect boy late one night. He was coughing quite loudly and the doubts of the others began to creep up upon her. Was he sick…?

 _No_! She shook her head violently. No, her boy was strong. He was a Martell and a Targaryen. The blood of the Rhoynar and Old Valyria ran though his veins. He was not weak. He was not weak.

Mace comes to her that night, the first time after the birth of their son, and he tells her that they should try again for another son, one that will live past his first nameday. She screams at him, fights against him and orders him out of her chambers, threatening to scream, waking the whole castle up and write to her brother.

She sleeps with her boy in her bed that night after Mace leaves her chambers, a look of pity on his face. She watches his chest rise and fall, wheezing a little, but he was alive, he was breathing, he was fighting and she cried silently at the thought of a world without her boy. 

* * *

 

When Sansa gives birth to twin girls a year later – little Olenna and Gwendolyn – Theo succumbs to sickness. They whisper that it was about time, and that it would spare his mother the pain of him passing away when he was older. But pain was not spared when she lost her son, her only boy. He was so much like Aegon, so much like her mother, like her. Her heart was in pain, it broke when Theo took his last breath.

When Mace had traveled to Oldtown to visit his family members, dragging her along, she had heard the others whisper. The maids, the servants, the banner men, they had whispered behind her back about her state, commenting about how they pities her, how young she was and already lost a child.

She threw herself off Hightower and they only whispered about how her heart broken when her body was found on the coast of Blackcrown.

* * *

 

_iii. Rhaenys Targaryen_

Viserys has been with her longer. It was always him. She loved Aegon, but it was Viserys who knew her, understood why she was mad at Rhaegar, always mad at Rhaegar. He understand why she rages on and why she crumbles quietly in her room.

So when she hears that her father was deciding on who to marry her off to, she decides for him. Viserys agrees at once because he cannot deny her anything, not this.

They marry in secret, with only Aegon and Dany in attendance. An unwilling Septon performs the ceremony as Viserys fastens a different Targaryen cloak on her shoulders – Rhaella’s cloak – with a kiss on her cheek. Her father will fight this and the realm will be disgusted, but she makes her own fate, no one else.

Rhaegar is unhappy, he yells at them for hours on end in front of everyone at court and threatens to have them removed from the line of succession before cooler heads prevail and Elia, with other members of the council, make him see reason. He sends them to Dragonstone, unable to look them in the eyes anymore.

She loves him, she will not deny that, no matter how much people whisper that their marriage was simply out of spite towards Rhaegar. She loves him when he presses his lips against her neck, her jaw, the curve of her hips.

She loves him when he promises her that he was hers forever and only hers. And she loves him when she knows she has to survive him. She loves him when he knows this as well. 

* * *

_i_ _v._ _Rhaenys Baratheon_

She does not fear for her life when Joffrey clasps the Baratheon cloak around her neck. She knows he is a horrible man who finds pleasure in pain. But she is Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter, daughter of the Sun and the Dragon, and despite how she feels about her father, he will make sure no harm comes to her.

Her wedding night was horrible and brutal. Joffrey was stinking drunk, putting his uncle to shame, and he is barely inside of her before finishing and collapsing on top of her, snoring. She manages to roll him off her and slips on a robe Lady Cersei gifts her. The stoned floor is cold but welcoming all the same. She sleeps on the floor with a small pillow. When he wakes in the morning, he fucks her again and this time, her back is bruised against the stone.   

* * *

 

She meets Joffrey’s bastard brothers, Gendry and Edric, a month after her wedding, and it is Gendry who gives her a cream against the bruises on her back, and soon the ones forming around her wrist, thighs, and neck.

She hides them as best as she could and does not say anything against it. Everybody at Storm’s End knows what Joffrey does to her, but none say anything against him in fear of him and word does not reach King’s Landing. For that, she is grateful. If Aegon or Viserys had heard, they would have declared war. If Oberyn was informed, there would be no stopping the Viper. 

* * *

 

There is a child soon growing inside of her and Joffrey is smug about getting a son inside of her. But when she loses the babe three months later, he beats her in his chambers, blaming her for being stupid enough to lose his son. There are bruises on her face, her neck, her belly and her only comfort is Gendry, who sneaks into the castle to make sure she is still alive.

She laughs and then cries at the thought of someone sneaking into a castle to make sure she was actually breathing. Someone needed to make sure she was actually alive. 

* * *

 

She suffers miscarriage after miscarriage after miscarriage for two years, and with each miscarriage comes his fists and the fists of his guards. She suffers in front Joffrey’s guards, and Robert and Cersei are always too late to save her. Cersei, though always cold towards her, gathers Rhaenys up in her arms while Robert gives him an earful.

“You have survived longer than I thought you would have, child,” commented Cersei as they enter Rhaenys’s chambers. “Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I laboured a day and a half to bring him forth. You cannot imagine the pain, Rhaenys. I screamed so loudly that I fancied Robert might hear me in the forest.”

“Lord Baratheon was not with you at the time?”

“Robert? Gods, no. Robert was hunting, as his custom dictates. Whenever my time was near, my loving husband would flee to the trees with his huntsmen, brothers and hounds. When he would return, I would present him with a child, and in turn, he would give me some pelts or a stag’s head. Not that I wanted him to stay. I had an army with me to birth my children. Robert would have just gotten in the way.”

Rhaenys had no idea why Cersei was telling her such things. It was nice to speak with Cersei without having the woman take to her coolly.

“Joffrey will show you no kindness, but you are stronger than you seem and you will survive him and a little bit of humiliation. I did. I was were you were sitting, so many years ago. You will never love your Lord Baratheon, I did not, but you will love his children.”

Rhaenys cannot imagine loving a small creature with Joffrey’s face.

“I am the daughter of the King of Westeros,” Rhaenys said finally. “I deserve better than Joffrey and the ability to survive some humiliate.”

Cersei smiles at her, almost in pity and humour. “Oh, sweet child. You are a woman. The gods have fashioned us for humility and bearing children. You _were_ the daughter of Rhaegar, just as I _was_ the daughter of Tywin Lannister. But that matters no more. Now we are wives of the Lords of Storm’s End. We do no matter to the rest of the realm. They do not care for us, including our fathers.” 

* * *

 

Gendry comes to her again that night with more medicine and herbs to soothe her pain. The maesters don’t do anything, under Joffrey’s orders, and she is left in pain every time he takes his anger out on her. So Gendry comes to her room every night, in secret, and she wonders when she sees him as her friend.

He is the one who urges her to write to her mother and brother, but she is the one to decline. She can handle Joffrey.

“I just need you to get me more herbs, please, Gendry,” she whispered into the night.

She can hear him sigh and he helps her lie back on her bed, shifting the pillows to her comfort.

“If he goes any further, I will write to your mother and to your uncle,” Gendry said quietly.

She wondered which uncle he was speaking of. Viserys, Oberyn, Doran. Joffrey would piss himself at the sight of all of them. 

* * *

 

She has no children three years into her marriage, no friends and she is sure it was all Joffrey’s fault. His anger becomes worse and worse. Robert can no longer do anything, nor does he want to either. He merely appears when needed and spends his time at the brothels. Cersei tries to get Joffrey to be a little be gentle, but her voice is hushed and he threatens to silence her for good. 

He splits her cheek and cracks two of her ribs after her last miscarriage and she is knows she needs to produce a child soon. Her womb will not take to Joffrey’s seed, and Tommen and Edric were too young, they could not possibly…

It was Gendry who agrees, though rather reluctantly. There was no love between the brothers. Joffrey would spit on the ground Gendry would walk on, and Gendry hated his half-brother with every fiber of his being. And he still does it, for her safety. If she does not have a child, Joffrey will surely kill her. Rhaenys does not have much time left before he finally does it.

So Gendry comes to her in the dead of the night. Joffrey fucked her from behind the night before, but Gendry was so gentle, so sweet and careful that she weeps into her pillow when they are finished because _oh god_ she can’t remember the last time someone treated her like this. 

* * *

 

When she swells with her child, she holds her breathe. After five months, she breaths easier. He does not dare strike her, does not lay a single finger on her. Robert makes sure of that. For all his folly and idiocy, Robert will not harm a child, especially his own flesh and blood.

Her son is born during one of the worst storms of the year and he is a Baratheon through and through. He had a stock of black hair already on his head. Baratheon black, not Martell. And when he opened his eyes, it was a brilliant shade of cobalt. Robert commented that he was the image of Joffrey and Rhaenys said nothing. She let them think she gave birth to another Joffrey, another Tommen.

Gendry comes to her again at night and he nearly cries at the sight of her son, their little boy. When he cradles the child, a smile appears on his face, laughing much like Robert did.

“He looks like me,” said Gendry.

“He has your eyes and he screams all the time, making a nuisance of himself,” commented Rhaenys. “He is your son and a Baratheon.”

Gendry’s jaws clench. He can never acknowledge the fact that Joffrey’s son was truly his. That a princess of the throne gave birth to a bastard’s bastard. They can never tell anyone what happened. They had to secure the safety of her, and now their son.

“What’s his name?” he asked her.

“Orys. Orys Baratheon.”

Gendry laughed quietly. “The bastard brother of Aegon Targaryen. How fitting, I suppose.” 

* * *

 

Two more children follow after Orys, Lyonel and Steffon. Each the image of their father. Orys was her sweet boy, trying his best to protect her from any harm, whether it be a hot cup of milk or glaring at guards that would look at Rhaenys a little longer then needed. Lyonel was more adventurous, wanting to climb on top of everything, proclaiming to be the greatest knight in all Seven Kingdoms at the tender age of seven. Steffon was her quiet child, watching everything with wide and curious eyes. They all reminded her of herself and Gendry. They had no trace of Joffrey in their blood and for that, she was grateful. 

* * *

 

Robert dies on top of a whore at a brothel years later and Joffrey is made the Lord of Storm’s End a day later.

A few days later Joffrey strikes her in front of Orys and her boy tries to push his supposed father away, trying to protect her. When Joffrey raises his hand at her son – _her son, her boy, not his, always hers_ – she sees red and rushes towards him, pushing him against the wall, hard. His head bangs against the wall and he falls on the fall, looking confused and dazed.

She grabs Orys at once and they leave her chambers, running fast and wildly away from Joffrey. She grabs Steffon and Lyonel from the nursery, and they leave the castle. Her boys are confused as to why they were running away and she could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage.

She goes to Gendry’s little house outside the castle. He was eating some bread when she barges in, scared and out of breath.

“Help us,” she whispered.

Gendry writes letters to her family, telling them to come to Storm’s End at once. 

* * *

 

Joffrey is the Lord of Storm’s End, but Aegon was the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, and when her brother challenged Joffrey to a trial by combat, her husband in only name was no match for Aegon Targaryen. He was acting as her champion and when his sword sliced against Joffrey’s throat, she was finally free. She was finally free from Joffrey.

She cries openly in front of everyone while Cersei goes to her son, holding him in her arms, crying for him to _stay alive, Joffrey_. Rhaenys cries and she laughs and she smiles because she was finally free, her sons were free. Her mother comforts her but she wants none of that. She leaves at once to go to her children, feeling giddy and happiness radiating from her insides to the tip of her fingers.

She finds Gendry there, telling Orys and Lyonel a joke and bouncing Steffon on his legs, and maybe, just maybe, she can finally find some joy at Storm’s End.

* * *

  _v._ _Rhaenys Martell_

Her cousin went to their wedding bed with a stony expression. Though she was fond of Quentyn, he was not the man of a girl’s dreams. He was pleasant enough, well-spoken with nice eyes, but he could not make her want him the way a woman should want a lover. His hands are shaking and he is uncomfortable around her. It was her who had to show him what to do.

She had tried to get him to open up with him, to speak with him freely, whether as cousins or man and wife. If she was to be married to Quentyn, she would want him to be comfortable around her. She had thought that she could learn to love him, and he in turn.

But when she finds him giving a kiss to Edric Dayne in the dark corridors of the Water Gardens, perhaps she was not truly his preference.

She confronts him that night but makes no accusations. Instead, she invites Edric to breakfast with them the next morning, and slowly, she accepts Edric. After all, she cannot help who Quentyn gives his heart to. All she asks is for a child or two to dote upon.

Their daughter, Mora, is the image of her as Edric chases her around the castle while Quentyn follows behind them with her son, Morgan. She stares at her family – Edric is her children’s uncle and she will fight anyone who says otherwise – and she realizes she does not mind having an unusual bunch to call hers.

* * *

  _vi._ _Rhaenys Lannister_

This was not a marriage of love, just a marriage to make peace with Tywin Lannister. Rhaegar gives the Old Lion a princess for a good-daughter, and Ser Jaime, a once member of the Kingsguard, is solemn when they marry. His face is stoned when he wraps the gold and crimson cloak around her shoulders.

He is handsome, even when he frowns and he will not dare to look her father in the eye. He avoids any Targaryen with silver hair and violet eyes and Queen Elia is the only one he would speak to for long periods of time.

Rhaenys knows of Jaime and her grandfather, and as much as Rhaegar regards Tywin’s heir coolly, she is grateful. Aerys would have killed them all if Jaime had not saved them. And Rhaegar knows this too well, or Jaime would have had his head on a spike. He saved her life, her mother’s life and her brother’s, all while Rhaegar was with Lyanna.

He comes to the wedding bed, guarded, and closes his eyes when he is done, whispering, “Sorry,” before rolling off her and handing her a cloth to clean herself with.

“You do not have to be sorry, my lord,” she said. “You only did you duty.”

She hears him laugh a little, a small laugh, a quiet one, before saying, “ _Duty_.”

Once her family leaves, he starts to smile more and laughs, often in the company of his younger brother, Tyrion. She finds that the imp’s company is not so horrible. He is quite smart and he is the only intelligent, and funny company she has in Casterly Rock. Tywin often regards her with a glare, though she learns that is his natural face. He is cold and forbidding, and she often hears him tell Jaime to get a child in her. 

* * *

 

They still call him Kingslayer behind his back and his mood changes instantly. He does not become sad nor does he rage on. There’s a small fire behind his eyes and he does not say anything, but she can tell something in brewing inside of him.

She finally plucks up the courage to ask him about her grandfather. She was not sure if she truly wanted to hear his answer, but she had to know all the same, she just had to. They are alone in her chambers at night, and he whispers, “I do not regret what I did.”

She does not expect him to and he cannot look her in the eye. 

* * *

 

She wears lavender when he smiles at her and tells her she is beautiful. It is Tywin Lannister’s nameday and the celebrations go on well into the night, due to his brother and sister. She does not like the idea of celebrating the man, but she is glad that Jaime laughs and smiles and forgets, just for one moment, that people still whisper behind his back.

He kisses her lips tenderly that night, and then her jaw, her chin and the curve of her breast, and within eight months, she gives birth to their daughter, Cerelle. And three more girls follow – Nymora, Joanna, and Alyssa. Each perfect with golden hair and dark eyes.

People began to whisper about his four daughters, each as pretty as the next, but no heirs to the Lannister seat. A father with no sons and everyone seems to blame her.

Tywin Lannister, the Old Lion of the Rock, wishes to put her aside for another girl, some Frey who has no flowered yet, but Jaime will hear none of that. To cast her aside was to cast their daughters aside with nothing. They were the rightful heirs of Casterly Rock, but they were not enough for Tywin Lannister.

Rhaenys holds her girls close to her when Jaime tells him to leave their chambers with such anger, such fury, and she swears he would have become a Kinslayer in her presence. 

* * *

 

He never saw her coming. She was playing the part of the dutiful wife and mother ever so carefully. Her moves were deliberate and she learned from the best snakes at King’s Landing. She has suffered enough of Tywin’s taunts and jeers at her daughters.  

She breaks fast with him when she is heavy with another child and when he comments about the possibility of her carrying a son, an underlined insult, she was definitely sure of what needed to be done.

She does nothing when he chokes on his wine, besides sipping at her own goblet. His face begins to turn purple and he looks at her knowingly and confused.

“You have forgotten who I truly am, Lord Tywin,” she said quietly, smiling as he fell out of his chair. “You dare insult my daughters, threatening to cast them aside for some Frey.” He has never shown any affection or love for her little cubs, but she will not allow him to throw them away. “You are a might beast, Lord Lion. But your pride blinds you from seeing the viper living within your castle”

It is only when Tywin stops struggling does she finally scream for help, for the guards, for Jaime. She cries in her good-brother’s arms as Jaime makes sure the maesters see to his father.

The next day, Jaime is made the Lord of Casterly Rock, and Rhaenys keeps her secret. The Stranger waits for her and when the time is right, she will not deny him.  

* * *

 

_vii. Rhae of Braavos_

She keeps her past guarded, tells not a soul, keeps her heart light, and tries not to think about her mother and her brother when they realize that she is ‘dead.’ She forgets the rest of the realm and finds her way to Braavos.

* * *

 

_Many people whisper about how the princess was truly not dead and Rhaegar listens with open ears. He sends out armies to find her, to bring her home, but they come back with nothing._

_They say he drives himself mad with grief for he cannot find his oldest daughter, the Dornish looking one. He grows more paranoid when each day and whispers about his child quietly. The Queen is stricken with grief and takes haven in the Water Gardens of her mother’s land. She stays with her older brother and is surrounded by her family when she passes, only asking for_ Rhaenys _before joining the gods._

_The King dies old, crying and apologizing to the gods for Rhaenys and Aegon cannot stand to see him like this. Rhaegar die alone with the name of his daughter upon his lips._

_When Aegon is crowned, he is already a father of four children, and the weight of his family bears down on his shoulders, and a man shows up at court with black hair and dark violet eyes, looking much like his youngest son. Aegon follows him to the Free Cities when the boy whispers the name_ Rhae.

 _He asks the boy who his father was and he merely smiles and says, “A Sand of Westeros. Just another bastard, King Aegon. Just another bastard.”_  

* * *

 

The city of Braavos was a city of stone made of grand monuments and small islands linked together by small stone bridges. The streets are lined with houses made of grey stone, but Rhae of Braavos’s house has a blue door and is bigger than most.

She goes out to the market that day, preparing to make her son his favourite feast. He will finally be back from another one of those trades upon the _Titan’s Daughter_ , and she wanted to welcome him back home correctly.

But her son arrives early and is standing outside their blue door, smiling and laughing as he hugs and kisses her cheek.

“Oh, Mother, I have missed you,” Duncan proclaimed to her. “Come inside. I have a surprise for you.”

She always loved it when he brought her gifts. He was always thinking of her, her sweet boy.

* * *

_viii. Rhaenys Targaryen_

She marries her brother in true Targaryen fashion and becomes a queen a year later when their father dies of a sickness. She gives birth to their children – Alysanne, Daemon, Rhaelle – and she is only remembered in history as just another Targaryen sister-wife.

She loves Aegon, she loves him with all her heart. He is kind to her and shows her more respect than the other lords and ladies, but she is the one who commanded armies to fight against the White Walkers. She brokered peace between the Lannisters and the Tullys, dealt with the Freys, and sat upon the throne just as much as Aegon did.

She was the one who ruled, and she ruled with an iron fist and a spine made of a spear. She was gentle towards those loyal to her, and showed kindness to those who would later bend the knee. She helped them up to their feet, brought them bread, and made sure they would never cross her again. She was a king and a queen, a Targaryen and a Martell. A ruler and a conqueror.

They called her the Sun Dragon of Westeros, and the ones who despised her called her Sunfyre. She hears none of that. She cares not for the whispers of court or the whispers heard around the realm. She raises her children, rules over the realm and sees that her son – tall Daeron with her hair and Aegon’s eyes, with a sense of honour that she finds shocking and can cut down enemies in seconds – will one day sit upon her – his father’s throne.

She will always be known as just another Targaryen woman, forced to marry her brother and bear his children. But that was not the truth, not even close. To the rest of the realm, she will go down in history as the forgotten Dornish Queen, but to her family, her children, she will always been known as someone much more. A queen, a warrior, a commander. Especially when Daemon hands her his first born, a daughter, and tells her that he named her _Rhaenys_.


	2. Question Poll

Hey everyone!

Thank you all for commenting and hitting that lovely kudos button. You all make me very happy when I hear what you guys think of this story and Rhaenys. 

Now, for the question, would you guys like to see me continue with this AU? This was supposed to be a one-shot, but, if you guys want, I could continue with each scenario in it's own chapter, perhaps look into the future of each chapter or go into more detail.

Tell me what you guys think and whether I should go further or explain more for each life Rhaenys goes through. And if you don't think I should and that I left the previous chapter at a good place, then please tell me so as well. I have been thinking about certain aspects of each scenario and I could possibly go further...

Please comment to let me know what you guys want to see, and thank you for all the feedback from this story and 'Blood of the Dragon and the Sun' (shameless plug *wink wink*) 

Love, oceanwideopen. 

 


	3. Rhaenys Stark of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys's life married to Robb Stark, and their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myrcella is the trueborn daughter of Cersei and Robert.

Her son was born a year after Aegon Targaryen married Myrcella of House Baratheon during one of the better days of winter. With the face of a Martell and the eyes of a Tully, they name him Rickard Stark.

Lady Catelyn gushed over her grandson while Eddard carries Meria in his arms, showing that she was always be loved alongside Rickard and never be pushed aside. For that, Rhaenys is grateful. Though she may not agree with placing a son over a daughter, she is glad to see Robb giving Meria the same amount of love and the same amount of attention as before. She does not doubt that Robb adores their daughter.

Meria is utterly fascinated with her little brother, sitting at Rhaenys’s side, petting his hair, poking his cheeks and being so gentle with him. Rhaenys often finds herself pulling her daughter close to her. Her sweet daughter reminded her so much of herself and she hoped that Meria will never grow up with darkness in her heart. 

* * *

 

Her brother comes to her three months later with his guards and Viserys. She hugs Viserys close as they whisper sweet nothings to each other as though they were children once again and Viserys is positively delighted to meet Meria and Rickard. He speaks animatedly about her children and his and Rhaenys’s heart swells at the thought of their children being friends.

Aegon hugs her tightly in her chambers and she wishes he would never go back to King’s Landing because all she wants is for her brother to stay with her and stay forever. She never allowed herself to think of her family while in Winterfell. Her brother, her mother, Viserys, Dany, Arianne, Oberyn… her heart ached for them to be near her.

“Mother apologizes for not being her,” said Aegon, finally letting go of her. “She fell ill a while ago and was sad at the thought of not meeting your son. He looks like you.”

“Really?” asked Rhaenys, smiling. “Are you sure? I think he ought to grow up looking like Oberyn.”

“No,” said Aegon, shaking his head. “He is your copy, along with Meria.” He paused for a moment before saying, “Myrcella is pregnant.”

Rhaenys’s raised her eyebrows. She was quite shocked. Not so much at the thought of her little brother having a son, but at his reaction. He looked gloomy and tired and she thought of Robb, Robb who smiled and laughed and was delighted at the thought of their children.

“Is something the matter, Aegon?” she asked carefully.

Aegon sighed. “Myrcella is… she is wonderful and intelligent and brave, but Cersei visits often and Tywin Lannister has become Master of Coin. I feel like I am losing her and we have barely gotten to know each other. They have their claws in her and… I do not want the same to happen to our child, Rhaenys. I have no idea what to do.”

She could imagine it. Cersei Baratheon and Tywin Lannister looming over Myrcella, over the children, over Aegon. Smiling and smirking, their teeth gleaming, their eyes shining, the throne…

And she saw her brother – her little brother. Aegon Targaryen who always smiled, relished in his lessons from the maesters and Elia. Aegon who wanted peace after learning about Rhaegar and their grandfather. Aegon who smiled and laughed at her and Viserys antics. Her little brother whose hand she used to hold around the castle. She saw pain and uncertainty behind his eyes and she wanted to burn those around that made him this way.

“If Myrcella is anything like you describe her, then I see no problem,” she said carefully. “I remember her from your wedding, she is brave and strong-willed. I doubt she will allow anyone controlling her or your children.”

Aegon nodded along with her words. “I hope so as well. But I cannot help feeling hopeless, Rhae.”

He turned towards the window and she comes behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder. “I understand how you feel, little brother. But think about this: Lord Lannister is merely Master of Coin and Cersei Baratheon is forever stuck at Storm’s End with Robert. She can visit all she wants, but Myrcella will always have you with her, and then you both will have a wonderful child. Let those Lannister’s plot and scheme. In the end, they will not matter.” 

* * *

 

Bran teaches Meria with a wooden sword and with a bow and Rickon races with her around the castle, and Rhaenys is proud to see that Meria will never feel alone. Her family will always protect her and teach her. And Meria does the same with Rickard, teaching him how to walk and say “Sissy” and “Mama” and “Papa” and how to sneak food from the kitchen.

She learns letters and numbers from Robb and the maesters and listens closely to Ned’s lessons. Rhaenys imagines a world where her daughter is the heir to Winterfell and she knows her daughter will be wonderful as Lady of Winterfell, just as good as any lord.

Rhaenys’s chest aches because Meria deserves the world and more, and she will one day be forced to marry a stranger when she should be ruling over a region. 

* * *

 

When Myrcella gives birth to their third child, she send them small gifts from the North and a note that congratulates the both of them, and Aegon sends a gift back.

_Rhaenys of Winterfell,_

_Thank you for your kind wishes and gifts. Baelor, and Rhaelle love them and are currently fighting over them as I write this to you. Myrcella is slowly recovering and insists that Aemon was easier to birth of the lot._

_Mother is overjoyed, as usual, with the addition of Aemon and is currently insisting for another grandchild. Myrcella politely declined at the thought. Three is apparently enough, according to our future Queen. Father seems pleased enough._

_I send this chest to you not as a gift, but as a request. I send this to you as your brother and future King and I ask you to guard this. I trust you and only you to keep this safe, Rhae. Please do not open this until I come to Winterfell. Promise me, Rhae._

_Aegon Targaryen of King’s Landing_  

* * *

 

Rickard grows up with the face of Prince Oberyn and beautiful blue eyes of his father. He is no longer a boy as she watches him spare with Rickon at the courtyard. He reminds her so much of Robb with his sense of honour and justice, and she vows never to take him to King’s Landing. Her son is pure and golden, and she will never let those snakes sink their fangs into him.

Meria watches from the side and Rhaenys can see the look of jealously in her grey eyes. She remembers that look very well. She wore that look in King’s Landing, and see knows her daughter will grow up with hatred and darkness in her heart, all for being born a girl.

She is beautiful, no doubt. But she is much more than that. She is stubborn, willful, daring and twice as smart as any man. She could best anyone in the courtyard with a sword or bow or even on a horse.

Meria slowly meets Rhaenys’s eye for a moment and she saw sadness instead of hatred and she wanted to run to her daughter and comfort Meria in her arms. But just as soon as she thought of it, Meria turned away, gathered up her skirt and stalked back to the castle.

Rhaenys sighs and feels arms encircling her waist. She leans back into Robb as he kissed the side of her neck.

“Meria seems unhappy,” he commented.

“She wants more,” Rhaenys replied, moving closer to Robb’s warmth. “She deserves more.”

Her daughter is as harsh as a winter’s storm but Rhaenys can only see the little girl she used to be and hopes that Meria finds happiness soon before she is consumed by her own self-hatred. Her daughter deserved better than that.

There was a scream and Rhaenys’s head snapped towards it only to have it followed by laughter. Alysanne laughs and giggles at Bran with mud covering her dress and face. Her daughter is seven and a joy, and Robb’s eyes shine with pride at their daughter who reminded Rhaenys so much of her own mother. 

* * *

 

Aegon comes to Winterfell with the rest of the court and their family. He looked so old and worm out but he was still her little brother. He was just as tall as her and Robb with a clean-shaven face and his pale hair tied back, framing his face gracefully.

He was her little brother, and yet he is her king. Rhaegar had passed away a few years ago from a sickness and she could tell that the crown did not rest easily upon him.

“Your Grace,” Robb said, standing tall as the new Lord of Winterfell. Ned had stepped down after a deserter had attacked him. Like Aegon, the responsibilities took a toll upon her husband, but Aegon had dark circles under his eyes and Robb took it in strides.

“Winterfell is yours,” Robb continued. He dipped his head in respect and Aegon nodded, smiling at him. Myrcella and her children stepped from the wheelhouse and was brought forward. Aegon pressed a kissed on her cheek and Elia finally comes out from another wheelhouse with Lady Ashara and Princess Arianne.

Her heart feels lighter at the sight of her mother and when Elia hugs her, she feels like a little girl once again. Lady Ashara looks even more beautiful, if possible, and Arianne glows against the grey skies of the North, and she allows herself to realize how much she misses her family.

Aegon’s children are introduced and she knows them already. Aemon is the youngest with a mop of golden hair and light green eyes. He has the face of a Lannister but she sees much of Aegon’s innocence in him. Rhaelle is a foot taller than Aemon and is twice as pretty as Myrcella with her mother’s dark hair and Aegon’s eyes. She smiles sweetly at them and her eyes are round when they meet Meria’s and Rhaenys wonders what stories Aegon must have told Rhaelle about her cousin.

Baelor is introduced last and Aerys immediately intrudes her mind at the sight of the boy. He is the image of Aegon but when he smiles, she thinks of Cersei Baratheon, rotting away at Storm’s End, and Tywin Lannister, sulking and plotting. He smiles as though in conspiracy and his eyes do not hold any warmth to them, unlike Aegon’s which hold some warmth to them.

Rhaenys then introduces her child and her chest swells when Elia embraces them as though they have never been parted. Alysanne, sweet Alysanne, embraces her grandmother with open arms and laughs. Rickard kisses her hand in respect before Elia pushed that away, gathering him in her arms. Meria does the same, but her smile does not reach her eyes and Rhaenys can still see pain in her daughter’s grey eyes. Rhaenys hopes her mother does not see this.

“Please,” said Robb, smooth and careful, “let us to you to your rooms. You must be exhausted from such a journey.” 

* * *

 

She breaks fast with her brother and she can see that rest did him some good. He looks more relaxed.

“You need to come to the South,” Aegon told her, enjoying his bacon and bread. “When was the last time you came and visit?”

“When Rhaelle was born I believe,” commented Rhaenys, smiling.

“Too long ago,” said Aegon, waving his hand in dismissal. “You must come back soon, and we can go visit Dorne. We can go see Oberyn and our cousins, and eat blood oranges under a tree at the Water Gardens.”

Rhaenys smiles at the image. But they are no longer children.

Silence passed between them and Aegon’s fingers thumped against the table.  “You must be wondering why I came to the North, especially after so many years…”

“I thought you wanted to see your sister again,” Rhaenys said lightly. “Clearly I am wrong…”

Aegon smiled at her before saying, “Do you still have that chest?”

Rhaenys almost forgot about it. “It is under my featherbed. No one knows of it and no one has opened it.”

Aegon nodded. “Good. Good.” He paused for a moment. “The contents of that chest… I wanted to give it to my children, but… they are not suited for it.”

“I do not understand…”

Aegon looked at her for a moment, biting the corner of his lips. He was deliberating his words. “Do you love your children?”

“With all my heart and soul,” she said instantly.

“I do as well, but… Baelor… I often find myself staring at him, wondering how I could have a son like him. He spends his time in Tywin’s company and I fear for him and for the realm. He is so young and I lost him, Rhae. I lost my son.”

His eyes began to swell up and he brushed his tears away before they could fall. He looked so much younger now and Rhaenys held herself back from running to him and comforting him in her arms. He was her little brother and he will always be her little brother.

“I love my son, I will always love him,” continued Aegon, his voice breaking, “but he cannot have control of the contents of the chest.”

“He’s only a boy,” offered Rhaenys.

“A boy that will one day be king,” said Aegon. “However, I give the chest and its contents to you. Do with it as you will. I trust you will use it wisely.”

“You came all the way to Winterfell to tell me this?” asked Rhaenys.

“Oh, and for the company,” said Aegon, winking at her with a smile. The notion of his son forgotten.

She still does not open the chest. It was better tucked away, forgotten. 

* * *

 

Aegon offers her position of Hand of the King and she refuses. The kingdom will not allow a woman to be Hand. There will be an uproar. She was more than suited for the role, more than most men. But still she declines, though the thought of spending time with Elia and Ashara and Arianne makes her legs weak.

He offers with position to Robb and he declines as well, but later accepts under the condition that he will do it until Aegon finds someone more permanent. Rhaenys did not like the idea of being separated from her husband or the idea of him taking Meria and Alysanne with him. She then thought of Alysanne at court, relishing in the sun under Elia’s protection, and of Meria, smiling more with women of her age. Perhaps she will find some happiness amongst her cousins.

So Rhaenys stands in the courtyard with Rickard by her side. Her son is now a lord in Robb’s absence at the age of four and ten, and his smile is ever so brave in front of his father. Robb hugs their son close and claps him on his back, promising to come back soon and write often.

She remembers Rhaegar and how she barely acknowledged him as he kissed her cheek. Looking back, she wishes she had at least said something. _Goodbye, Father. I know you did what you thought was best. I am sorry._

Robb comes to her and she looks into his eyes, the first thing she fell in love with, and he hugs her close as she tucks her head under his chin.

“The next time I see you, no one will be able to take you away from me again,” whispered Rhaenys.

“Nothing will ever keep us apart,” replied Robb. He kissed her lips softly and whispered, “I love you.”

“And I love you, Robb Stark,” said Rhaenys, smiles at him. “Have a safe journey and… make sure Meria smiles, please.”

Robb nodded as he kissed the tip of her nose. Snow was falling and it melted around them. She was content to stay like this forever. 

* * *

 

She had always thought Rickard looked like Oberyn, like Dorne, yet she sees so much of Robb and Eddard in him. So much of the North, cold, hard and unforgiving. She remembered holding him at the birthing bed, tracing his features.

But when he stares at Maester Luwin speaking of the books and giving him long talks about responsibilities, she sees a little of Rhaegar in him. He absorbs everything in strides but he is uncertain and she sees Rhaegar.

“I wish Father was here,” whispered Rickard. “I wished he told me of the books and… all of this.”

Robb writes to them frequently, telling them of his responsibilities and Aegon and the children. Alysanne and Rhaelle get along splendidly, and Meria relishes in the presence of the Dornishwomen at court. He writes of Aegon finally relaxing and finding peace, and Alysanne exploring the castle. He writes of Meria laughing and smiling and Rhaenys wishes she was at court to see her daughter happy.

Robb then writes to her and only her, wishing that he was with her instead of sitting next to the snakes at court. She feels for him as he writes of Tywin and Baelish and Varys draining the life from him, and she waits for the day when he comes home.

* * *

 

She remembers her limbs on the morning of Robb’s departure. She remembers their limbs tangled together and Robb’s mouth on her neck and her hands in his hair. She remembers how passionate he was, how he whispered his love to her. She remembers the fire in his eyes and the love. She only ever felt warm in the North when she was in bed with him.

* * *

 

_Rhaenys Stark of Winterfell_

_I count the days until we are finally united. My hands linger on the empty side of my featherbed, wishing you were beside me. I miss you, Rhae. I miss your warmth, your smile, your laugh and your eyes. I miss watching Rickard at the courtyard sparing with Rickon, and Meria besting everyone at archery, and Alysanne running to us with flowers in her hands._

_I have prepared our belongings to return back with us. Everything is ready, my love. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms once more. Perhaps when I return we can try for another child. I would not mind having another son or daughter having your smile or your eyes._

_I shall see you soon, Rhae. I love you._

_Robb Stark, Hand of the King_  

* * *

 

She does not remember how it happened. She does not remember the name of the boy that presented her and Maester Luwin the letter.

He was gone. Robb… Brave and honourable Robb…

Maester Luwin continued to read the letter from Dowager Queen Elia. Aegon had died of a supposed sickness and Robb suspected foul play from the Lannisters, and they took his head away. Her children are hostages in King’s Landing.

She thinks of Tywin and Cersei and Myrcella over Robb’s body. She thinks of Aegon, pale and sickly on his bed, alone and small. She thinks of Robb, the last time she saw him and he whispered how much he loves her. She thinks of Alysanne, small and fearful. She thinks of Robb with snow in his hair. She thinks of Rickard, a man grown at five and ten, the weight of Winterfell on his shoulders. She thinks of Robb and his beautiful eyes. She thinks of Meria, darkness filling her heart, hollow and lost.

 _She thinks of Robb_.

“Lady Rhaenys,” whispered Maester Luwin. “Your grief is mine.”

“Is it?” asked Rhaenys quietly. She stood up carefully. “Please inform everyone of what happened. I will be in my chambers if you need me. I do not wish to see Eddard or Catelyn in fear of their reaction. Thank you, maester.”

She hears the screams of Robb’s name, of “Winterfell!” and the cries from her room. She hears the screams of anguish from Catelyn and the cries from his loyal bannermen, calling for Tywin’s head.

She sits on her bed, staring at the wall until someone knocks on her door.

“Lady Rhaenys?” called Maester Luwin. “Lady Catelyn wishes to see you. She insists.”

Rhaenys leaves her room carefully, her hands folded in front of her and her eyes hollow. She refuses to cry. She refuses to cry in front of everyone. She has to be strong. She has to be strong for Rickard and Ned and Catelyn…

Catelyn engulfs Rhaenys in her arms, her eyes glossy and her lips quivering. It was Eddard who spoke. “Rickard went to visit the godswood, Lady Rhaenys.”

Rhaenys nodded but did not move. She wished for Elia to be here comforting her and kissing her hair. She will settle for Catelyn and her warmth. 

* * *

 

Rickard was so much like Robb. His father’s son through and through.

She found Rickard hacking away at a tree, his body shaking, his hands flailing about, and his sobs loud. She saw her little boy, trying to best Rickon, and falling on his backside.

“Rickard,” she called for him. He ignored her and continued to hack away at the tree. His body shook worse and his sobs louder.

“Rickard!”

He stopped, pausing mid-air, and his sword fell from his hand. He was breathing heavily. He turned towards her and his face was red with his cheeks covered in tears and eyes puffy. _Her little boy_ …

There were tears in her eyes and she wiped them away angrily.

“Mother…” whispered Rickard. “Mother… I do not know what to do… Father… Mother…”

She held onto Rickard’s shoulders and steered him towards the heart tree. She knelt before it and clasped her hands together.

“Pray, my son,” she whispered. “Pray for your father and your sisters. Pray for peace and for your grandmother and uncle. Pray for the upcoming war, Rickard. Pray for safety.”

_Pray to the gods that took your father away._

Rickard stared at her for the longest time before following suit. His cheeks shined under the sun as he had not wiped his face. She refused to cry. She had to be strong for him.

Soon, other followed them and knelt before the heart tree as well. Eddard, Catelyn, Bran, Rickon, bannermen…. 

* * *

 

Rhaenys opens the chest under her featherbed. Her eyes widened at the sight of dragon eggs. She ran her fingers over their surfaces delicately, feeling the heat radiating off of them. She snaps the chest and wonders what she will ever do with them. 

* * *

 

It was summer and two months after the death of Robb Stark when her children finally make it back to her. There are cries at the courtyard and screams and Rhaenys holds her daughters close to her, crushing them against her chest. Elia stands to the side, smiling at the lot with tears in her eyes.

Rhaenys stares at Meria and Alysanne, their beautiful faces and sees sadness in them. Rickard, Catelyn and Eddard soon come forward, holding them as well while Rhaenys stares at Elia, Lady Ashara, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Lewyn Martell and Ser Gerold Hightower. They all looked so old. _And so are you_ thought Rhaenys. The knights still looked as though they could cut through armies on their own.

Rhaenys stares at Elia, her mouth open, unable to comprehend what is happening.

“We escaped,” whispered Elia, her spine straight. _The one true Queen of Westeros._ “There are secret tunnels that Tywin Lannister does not know of and… they have corrupted Baelor and Myrcella. Cella is a shell and Baelor… he is too much like Aerys. And Aegon… _Aegon_ … he wished for Baelor to find peace and for him to be a good king… He was… He was shivering when he… when he…”

Dowager Queen Elia’s shoulder began to shake and she finally let herself go. Rhaenys caught her before she hit the ground and Elia sobbed into Rhaenys shoulder and Rhaenys let herself go as well.

 _Robb… Robb… Robb_ …

Her husband…. Her love… They took him away from her…

Her eyes met Meria’s and her daughter came to her side, gently pulling Elia to her feet.

“We cannot be seen like this, Grandmother,” whispered Meria. “We cannot be seen as weak. We are Dragons and Suns and Wolves and we will avenge Father and Aegon. The Lions will pay for what they have done. I promise, Grandmother, I promise.”

She wonders when her daughter grew up, and she looks into Meria’s grey eyes. There was ice and steel behind them, and determination beyond all. 

* * *

 

She tries to hide the chest from her children, but Alysanne finds it, finds the eggs and it was Meria’s idea.

Rhaenys screams from the top of her lungs, calling for her children as the flames engulfed them. Screams and shouting and glass breaking. She felt as though the world was ending.

When the flames died out, they were naked and they were beautiful. Their bodies were covered in ash and hair burnt. Alysanne was cradling a green and bronze dragon as though it were a doll. A pale cream and golden dragon sat upon Rickard’s lap while the black and scarlet dragon perched upon Meria’s shoulder, its eyes staring at everyone.

Bran stood beside her as Summer retreated. She thought of Robb’s direwolf, gone and missing, and she stared at Meria’s dragon as it opened its mouth, screaming into the sky. 

* * *

 

The Northerners argued and argued as Rickard sat at the head of the table outside. Meria and Rhaenys sat together by the side while Alysanne watched over the dragons. It seemed as though she was the only one who could control all of them with ease. She was barely ten and she could command the attention of all three dragons.

The arguing raged on into the night and each of them spoke and cursed and slammed their fists into the table. They wanted to march in the name of Robb Stark while a lord insisted that they pledge their loyalty to King Baelor, save their necks.

“Baelor is not the king,” said Rickard.

“He called for Robb’s head!” said Lord Glover.

“It was all Tywin Lannister’s doing,” Elia said quietly. They all stared at the hollow shell of a once Queen. “Baelor is Aegon’s trueborn son. The throne is rightfully his by law. But all of this… This is Tywin and Cersei Lannister’s doing. They have controlled him. Brainwashed him.”

“The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor,” said Rickard carefully.

“That is a lie,” said Ser Gerold.

“If we fight against the Lannisters and Baelor, we will be traitors,” said Rickard, staring at the three members of the Kingsguard. “You lot already are. You deserted your king.”

Ser Lewyn Martell shook his head. “He is no true king, Lord Rickard.”

“We followed our Queen to the North,” said Ser Arthur. “We have not deserted, not truly.”

“Can we not ask for peace?” asked Ashara, staring at them with hopeful eyes.

Everyone stared at her and Ashara stared at Rickard and Meria. “I took care of Baelor, and Rhaelle and Aemon. They are only children…”

Rickard nodded. “My cousins… they are merely… they are merely pawns. The Lannisters are the ones who murdered my father.” He drew his longsword and threw it on the table before them. The metal crashed against the rough wood and Rickard looked away from his men and rubbed his eyes, tired and sad. He then looked up, taking a deep breath. He stared at his bannermen, at his family and then at his sword. His face became dark. “This is the only peace I will offer the Lannisters.”

Greatjon Umber bellowed and other lords shouted and drew their swords as well, pounding their fists on the table. Rickard did not join in and when they quietened down, he looked at Meria.

Her daughter sighed and rubbed her right eye in exhaustion. “I wish for peace and my father and to live my life in Winterfell…. But I also wish for Cersei Lannister’s head and for Tywin Lannister to beg for his life in front of me.”

Everyone was quiet at her words.

“Peace,” whispered Meria, continuing, “is a sweet and foolish notion. I wish for my Father’s bones to rest beside my great-Grandfather, and I wish for vengeance for my uncle. I will not bend the knee to Baelor or any Lannister. I will not call them my king.”

She then stood up and took the sword Rickard laid on the table. She look at the blade and twirled it in her fingers with ease. She then pointed the sword to Rickard and stared at the other lords.

“Here sits the only king I will ever bend my knee to!” she yelled, her voice full of passion and Rhaenys could see the fire in her eyes.

Greatjon launched to his feet and spat on the ground. “There is what I think of the Lannisters and their false king!” He reached over his shoulder and drew his great sword. He pointed at Rickard along with Meria. “The King in the North!” he thundered.

“The King in the North!” yelled Meria.

“Let them rule from their flowery seats in Highgarden,” shouted Lord Umber. “What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their bloody gods are wrong! The Others take the Lannisters too, I’ve have a bellyful of them.” And then he knelt and laid his sword at Rickard’s feet.

“I will have peace on those terms,” said Lord Karstark. “They can keep their red castle and that iron chair as well.” He eased his longsword and kneeled beside Umber. “The King in the North!”

Maege Mormont soot and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. “The King of Winter!”

They rose and drew their blades, bending their knees to her son and shouting words that would be considered treason. Rhaenys looked at her son, too young to be a lord, much less a king and saw Robb in his face, and Aegon and Rhaegar. He kept his face stone-like and gave away nothing. She then looked towards Meria, her chest rising and puffing and she had a wicked grin on her face. Her daughter was a warrior. She will not be cast aside, forced to marry someone. She would be alongside Rickard in battles. This is what she wanted.

Behind her, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar screeched into the night as the bannermen screamed “ _The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, family of Rhaenys and Robb: 
> 
> -Meria Stark, with Rhaenys's face and grey eyes. Balerion is her dragon. Female warrior and hungry for more from the world. 
> 
> -Rickard Stark with Rhaenys's face and Robb's eyes. Meraxes is his dragon. King in the North. Scared and determined to avenge Robb. 
> 
> -Alysanne Stark with Robb's face and Rhaeny's colourings. Vhagar is her dragon. Has more control of all the dragons. Sweet child that grows up quick. 
> 
> Aegon and Myrcella: 
> 
> -Baelor Targaryen, completely looks like Aegon. Reminds others of Aerys. Brainwashed by Tywin and Cersei to follow their words instead of Aegon, who just wanted the best for him. 
> 
> -Rhaelle Targaryen, has Myrcella's dark hair and Aegon's eyes. Admires Meria as she would hear stories of her and is friends with Alysanne 
> 
> -Aemon Targaryen, a complete Lannister in looks. Sweet boy.


	4. The Ghost of Rhaenys Tyrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon's life after the death of his sister, Rhaenys

It was Rhaegar who insists he find a bride. He is two-and-twenty with no heirs and there are so many whispers at court – he is impotent, he does not care for women, he has natural children but none legitimate. Perhaps the biggest whisper is of his broken heart washed up on the coast of Blackcrown.

Every time he closes his eyes, he can see her broken body brought to King’s Landing from Highgarden. Her once lively eyes were lifeless and her body deprived of colour. _This is not her, this is a stranger, Rhae is alive, she’s alive, she’s alive, where is Rhae, where is my sister, where is my sister, they dishonoured her by giving this stranger as a jab, where is Rhaenys, where is my sister…_

Rhaegar, Viserys and Dany tried to make him see reason. They tried to make him see way. Rhaenys is dead and she was never coming back. Dany’s voice cracked and her throat thick as she claimed that Rhaenys killed herself. _No, she would never… she would never leave me, where is Rhaenys, where is she..._

In the end, it was Queen Elia who convinced him. One look at her glossy eyes and hollow cheeks made his stomach drop. His sister was gone and she didn’t take him with her. 

* * *

 

He was perfectly content with making Viserys or Dany his heir. Viserys was charming and all the ladies blushed whenever he smiled at them. Dany was loved by the smallfolk and any child she would have with Robb Stark will surely be sufficient enough. But Rhaegar insists and ladies are soon presented at court.

He cannot deny their beauty, but he does not lie to them either. He does not desire them as a man should with his wife. He will not make them happy and they deserve something that was deprived of his sister.

Rhaegar sends them away with a scowl, but he is determined to find Aegon a bride. Aegon merely laughs in his chamber and wonders if Viserys is ready to bear the weight of the crown. 

* * *

 

He is three-and-twenty when he visits Dorne with his mother and their company. Queen Elia misses her home and her brothers dearly. Doran welcomes her back with open arms and Oberyn spins her around in circles, his eyes full of happiness and joy. Aegon smiles. He doesn’t remember the last time Elia smiled this much.

Her heart went with Rhaenys to Highgarden and it never came back. Rhaenys’s body was burned like many Targaryens before her and her ashes were spread by the Narrow Sea. She followed many Martells before her, following Mother Rhoyne and Queen Nymeria back into the water. Even Rhaegar could not deny her that. Aegon had refused to see her ashes off, preferring to lock himself in his room as though he was a child. Looking back, it seemed foolish. Rhaenys was his sister. It should have been him who spread her ashes in the water.

Arianne comes forward and hugs him, welcoming him to Dorne and promising to show the Water Gardens soon.   

* * *

 

He enjoyed his time at Dorne. Arianne is vivacious and bold. He enjoys sparring with Obara and Sarella’s jokes are clever and dark. He has taken to the Water Gardens. He enjoys watching the children splashing in the water without a care in the world. His mother once told him Rhaenys loved the Water Garden and never wanted to leave. She loved playing with other children, highborn and smallfolk alike. She should be here beside him, watching her son grow tall and splash in the water. Theo would have been four, had he not succumbed to his sickness, he would have been welcomed to Sunspear with open arms. He would have been welcomed just as much as any child from Arianne or the Sand Snakes.

The festivals at Sunspear go on for days and into the night. They celebrate the Queen’s return to her homeland and the arrival of their future King. Many lords and ladies attend the festival and he learns that his grandfather comes from House Gargalen. Many of the lords pay respect to Elia and Aegon. He does the same, not wanting to disrespect his mother’s people.

Lord Manwoody comes forward with his daughter and Aegon blinks, completely missing her name. Her dark hair falls in waves behind her back and her dark eyes could hold the secrets beyond the Sunset Sea. Her smile is sweet and her dress seemed as though it were tailored just for her. A strong feeling builds up in his chest and he does not know what to do. He imagines them by the Water Gardens and by the Septa, in front of the Mother and Father. He sees life and love and a future with her.

“Aegon?”

He turns towards his mother, not realizing that someone was speaking to him. She give him a knowing smile and he turns back towards the lord. “Sorry, Lord Manwoody, what did you say?”

“Kingsgrave welcomes you to Dorne as well, Prince Aegon, and House Manwoody will always stand with House Martell and House Targaryen, as long as you and your children live.”

He nods, appreciating his words. He glances over at the woman and Lord Manwoody takes note.

“This is my daughter Elaena. She is currently a companion for Princess Arianne.”

“I haven’t seen you around here,” Aegon stated.

“My goodsister gave birth to a baby girl recently.” This time, Elaena spoke. Her voice was soft and he felt lighter. “I went home to look after her for a while.”

“The birth of a new child is a joyous moment,” Elia said elatedly. “I congratulate you, Lord Manwoody, and wish you many more grandchild to fill your halls.”

When Lord Manwoody and his daughter leave, Elia smiles at him once more before leaving to sit with Lady Ashara. He does not know what she was smiling about and he does not ponder on it too much as little Dorea and Loreza pull him for a dance. 

* * *

 

He returns to the Water Gardens once more, relishing in the sun and enjoying the cool water on his skin. He sits by a tree with blood oranges and licks the juices from his fingers. He sees Arianne and Tyene giggling with each other, looking utterly wicked, with Elaena right behind them, sighing with a small smile on her face. Arianne and Tyene soon disappear and Elaena is left alone.

She looks around uncertainly and he gets up, holding a blood orange in his hand. She smiles warmly at him as he presents the orange to her.

“Thank you, your grace,” she says, slowly peeling the orange.

“It is no trouble,” he replies. “Fell from the tree. Would you like to join me?”

“And what exactly are you doing, your grace?”

Aegon’s mouth suddenly went dry. “I was… I was enjoying the sun.”

He was the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and he stands in front of her, spluttering.

Her dark eyes scanned his face and then glanced over towards the children. “I was once sent here many years ago. I met Princess Arianne here and then Tyene and the rest of her sisters. They were always kind towards me, the Martells. They welcomed me to the Water Gardens and I have been by Arianne’s side for years.”

“She ran off with Tyene.”

She gave him a small smile. “She always runs off with Tyene.”

“And what about you?”

“I find a new friend for the time being.”

He blinks at her and says, “Am I your new friend, Lady Manwoody?”

“Perhaps,” she said impishly. “But my friends call me Elaena.”

“And mine Aegon.”

When she walks away he says her name out loud for only him to hear. He likes the way her name rolls on his tongue. 

* * *

 

He invites her to walk with him every day around the Gardens. She is immensely kind and quick witted. She helps little children to her feet and gives them sweets from the kitchen. She loves Dorne with all her heart and she wants a family of her own. Daughters and sons growing tall around her with a man who will kiss her every night. He can see it. She would be a beautiful bride and mother.

“Your grace, are you feeling well?”

Aegon blinks and regains his composure. “Yes, well, actually, I wanted to ask something of you, Lady Manwoody.”

She smiles and says, “How many times do I have to ask you to call me Elaena?”

The corner of his lips twitch. “Perhaps once more.”

She smiles and looks down at the ground, her cheeks suddenly rosy. “And what do you wish to ask of me, your grace?”

“Come to King’s Landing with me.” He is blunt and honest.

She looks up at him, clearly take back. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come to King’s Landing with me.”

“Why?” she settles on a single word.

“Because I wish to marry you,” he said quietly in fear of being overheard. He does not need Arianne teasing him about this. “I understand that have only just met one another but if you accompany me back to King’s Landing, then we shall get to know one another before we marry.”

She stares at him for a moment and he fears the worst. He has offended her, he is sure of it. He was too bold and has not asked her father for permission. Lord Manwoody will be insulted and he will never see her again. He is sure he has made a mistake.

But she then kisses him in front of a blood orange tree and he feels a sense of happiness he never knew existed. 

* * *

 

When they go back to King’s Landing, Rhaegar’s eyes widen at the sight. They had left with Elia and her Dornish companions and returned with more. Aegon smiles at the sight. Lady Ashara, Oberyn, Arianne and the Sand Snakes arrived behind Elia while Dickon Manwoody, Deana Vaith and Allyria Dayne have followed Elaena. Aegon himself have brought some squires to train alongside Oberyn’s. He doubts anyone in the Red Keep have seen so many Dornishmen and women.

“I see you have brought everyone from Dorne with you,” Rhaegar says to him in private. “You make friends easily.” 

He smiles, remembering the way his words tripped over each other with Elaena. “Not easy enough or I would have brought more.”

“How was it?”

“Fine.”

They fell into uncomfortable silence. Their relationship hasn’t been the same in years. He resented Rhaegar for being weak with Lyanna Stark and selling Rhaenys to Mace Tyrell. He wasn’t the King many people predicted him to be. He was a disappointment in Kingship and as a father.

“I think I have found myself a bride,” he said quickly.

“Oh?” Rhaegar looks interested. “Was it one of the ladies who accompanied you back to King’s Landing?”

Aegon nods, smiling.

“Is it Arianne Martell, your cousin, or Deana Vaith?” asks Rhaegar, his voice lighter. Aegon has never heard him like this before. “Or is Allyria Dayne? She is as beautiful as Ashara.”

Aegon shakes his head and says, “No. Arianne is meant to rule Dorne and Deana is betrothed to Quentyn.”

“So you have chosen Lady Allyria,” Rhaegar states, leaning back against his chair. “If I had known you were going to choose her, I would have had Ashara bring –“

“No,” said Aegon. “Allyria will not be my wife. I have chosen Elaena Manwoody and she has chosen me.”

Rhaegar’s eyebrows crease together. “I do not understand. Which one is Elaena Manwoody?”

Anger flares up in Aegon and he pushes it away quickly. It was a simple mistake, surely. “She is the lady beside Allyria with the blue dress. Her brother has followed her here as her sworn shield.”

Rhaegar frowns and says, “The plain girl with black hair? She is small and frail. Will she survive this far north from Dorne?”

Aegon grips the arm of the chair tightly and stands up. “She is neither plain nor frail. She will be an excellent bride and wife.”

Rhaegar raises a single eyebrow. “She will not be welcomed by the others. The Starks, Baratheons, Lannisters and Tullys are here. They will look down upon her in scorn.”

“And I will send them away,” snapped Aegon. “Their words mean nothing to me. Do you think I care what the Baratheons or the Lannisters have to say about me? Do you think I care what the Tullys of Riverlands have to say about me? They’re too busy sticking their head in the water for me to even consider their existence. I will marry who I want as I please. Elaena is who I choose.”

“It is not who they choose,” said Rhaegar. “If you so wish to marry her, then do so. But know that you cannot always protect your bride, Aegon. She will have to face court and hear their whispers.”

“Let them,” Aegon said harshly before leaving Rhaegar’s chambers. 

* * *

 

He hears the whispers immediately and his ears burn. They don’t see what he does. They think her plain with dark hair and empty eyes. They think she is weak and sickly, like his mother, but they were wrong then, and they are wrong now. Though she has not grown accustomed to the weather up north and finds herself confined to her bed at times, she is all steel and strength. He can hear Cersei Baratheon whisper about the flat-chested Dornish girl who isn’t pretty like her daughter or one of the Tully cousins who doesn’t understand why the prince fell for such a plain girl.

“The whispers will die soon enough,” said Arianne when they break fast, “when you make her your wife and she gives you an heir.”

“I did not ask her to be my bride so that she could give me a son,” Aegon said shortly. “I asked her because I have… I have certain feelings for her…”

Arianne raised her eyebrows and he immediately regretted his words.

“Are you in love with Elaena, Aegon?” she asked, her voice full of joy.

He says nothing, feeling his cheeks flush at the thought. He doesn’t say anything else for the remainder of their meal and soon sets out for his duties. 

* * *

 

He finds Elaena in her chambers by the window, crying, and he immediately go to her side.

“Elaena, what happened? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and he holds her closer, soothing her hair and not leaving until her shoulders stop shaking. He can feel anger slowly rising in his chest, but dares not show it in front of her.

“What happened, Elaena? Tell me who hurt you.”

“N – no one,” she hiccupped. “It’s nothing, Aegon, I promise. Just… please do not worry over me.”

“I intend on marry you one day, Elaena, and you cannot tell me such a thing.”

She gave him a watery smile, but it soon fades as she says, “I can hear them talking about me, Aegon. They call me sickly and weak and hideous. They think – they think I am not worthy of being your bride. Your father is trying to find another bride for you. He wants to send me away, Aegon.”

“He will not,” he said sternly. “He will not send you away, I promise you this. As for the whispers, ignore them. They are merely jealous of your beauty and kindness.”

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “I have seen Myrcella Baratheon and Cerenna Lannister. They are beautiful, Aegon. I am… _nothing_ compared to them. I am from a lesser house in Dorne even. I have nothing to offer the royal family besides a few spears.”

“That’s enough,” said Aegon. “Do you think I care about them or any of that? I asked you to come to King’s Landing because I intend on marrying you and having children with you. I don’t care if the Maiden herself came to King’s Landing. I want you and only you. And as for your house, House Manwoody is an old and noble house of Dorne. They have produced some of the finest knights, lords and ladies this kingdom as ever seen. One of whom is sitting beside me.”

A small blush appears on her face and she looks down, suddenly ashamed. “They think I am sickly.”

“They don’t matter –“

“But I am, Aegon. I haven’t been feeling good since I arrived here. The maester is trying to help me, but nothing is working.”

“King’s Landing is different from Dorne,” he said gently. “The weather takes time to get used to. I will make sure your chamber will have a roaring fire from no onwards. But please, Elaena, do not concern yourself with these whispers. They are merely jealous and I don’t want to ever see you crying again.”

She nods and lean into him. For a while, they are silent and Elaena is soon clam. But in moments, she shoots up and says, “I want to marry you.”

He smiles. “I want to marry you as well, Elaena.”

“No, I want to marry you now, Aegon,” she says defiantly. “I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband. I no longer want to just be another member of court. I want to be your wife and the mother of your children.”

He blinks at her and slowly smiles. “As my lady wishes.” 

* * *

 

The wedding occurs two days later under the disapproval of King Rhaegar and the small council. They had planned for the wedding to occur much later with lavish decorations and more guests at court. They had a feast prepared for hundreds and a tourney happening the night before. Aegon did not want that. Tourneys were not a form a celebration. Tourneys are a representation of all the horrible things Rhaegar has done to Elia and Rhaenys and the realm.

All he wanted was a small ceremony in front of his family. Once the septon pronounces them husband and wife for all days to come, he kisses her in front of everyone, making her a Targaryen princess. She looked beautiful underneath the Targaryen cloak Rhaella once wore. She smiles up at him as everyone cheers and claps. 

* * *

 

He hopes King’s Landing will become her home. The thought of her father not being at the wedding saddens her, but he promises that they will visit soon. She misses her older brother and nieces. She misses her father most of all. Sometimes they would stay up late, whispering stories to each other in the dark. She talks about Lord Manwoody throwing her up in the air and catching her as she squeals. Her brother, Mors, used to sneak food from the kitchens for her when she was sick and Dickon would steal her away from her lessons.

He would tell her the stories of Rhaenys and Viserys and Daenerys. Rhaenys was older, but she never excluded him from anything. She had a black cat named Balerion once. Viserys gave it to her when she was little and they used to pretend they were the Conquerors. Aegon and Daenerys were small but Rhaenys always managed to include them somehow.

“She sounds wonderful, Aegon,” she whispers. “I am sorry I could not meet her.”

Her body was washed up on the coast of Blackcrown. She was dead and gone before she could see Aegon marry. 

* * *

 

Before the end of the year, she is with child. She tells him in their chamber as he prepares to write to Daenerys Stark. She is with child and his eyes flicker towards her already protruding womb. For a brief moment, he worries. Her body had become small since she had arrived at King’s Landing and she spends most of her time in their chambers with a roaring fire. Obara Sand and Dickon Manwoody watches over her and Allyria makes sure she is comfortable. But they’ve reported back that she rarely comfortable and is slowly adjusting to life at King’s Landing.

Rhaegar and the small council complain that she needs to understand the way of court soon and she needs to be seen outside the castle with the smallfolk so that they may grow to love her one day. But they always complain about her and her Dornish company.

And he will be a father soon. 

* * *

 

“I wish to name the baby Rhaenys,” said Elaena.

He looks up from his food. She was due to the birthing bed soon and his worries continue to grow. He has no doubt she will be a wonderful mother, but her body hasn’t adjusted and she rarely has an appetite.

“Rhaenys?” he says slowly.

“After your sister,” she said quietly.

Something twists in his stomach. Sadness and joy and need. In the end he smiles and agrees. There is not better name. 

* * *

 

_Please, I need you. Come at once, please. I miss you, brother, I need you_.

Her words never escape his mind when the maester has pronounced Elaena dead. His hands are covered in blood as he gazes over his wife’s unusually pale face. Her eyes were dull and her skin grey. She was still beautiful, his wife. She was everything. She was his beautiful wife, dead before seeing their child. She was his and he was hers and she left him like Rhaenys.

The midwives are running all over the room, trying to clean her up and he simply stares at her. She died murmuring a name. She was gone.

“The baby seems to be fine, your grace,” the maester wheezes out. “We are cleaning her now.”

He does not listen to the words. He stares at the blood on his hands and soon leaves the room. 

* * *

 

He does not visit his daughter for several months. He locks himself in his chamber and rarely eats. It takes Obara, Elia, Dickon and Jonothor Darry to finally get him to leave. Queen Elia waits for him in the nursery and he is reminded that Elaena was to be queen one day. Instead, she is gone.

“Rhaenys,” he whispers.

She is small in Elia’s arms, but he knows. She will grow up looking like his sister. Her colouring is already that of a Martell and her eyes are dark like Oberyn’s. Elia carefully places her in his arms and he wonders if this is what Rhaenys felt all those years ago. Her son was small and a Targaryen. His will be a Martell. His will be loved and protected until he takes his final breath. 

* * *

 

Perhaps the only Targaryen feature is her lips for she is all Martell down to her temper that reminds him of Oberyn. She is loved and Aegon makes sure of it. Elia gushes over her as much as a grandmother can and constantly spoils her with dresses and toys. Allyria constantly runs after her and Lady Ashara sneaks her sweets every chance she gets. Obara teaches her how to hold a spear as much as a sword and Elia Sand teaches her how to ride a horse. Dickon Manwoody, finally a member of the Kingsguard, is constantly by her side and Arianne sends her gifts from Dorne. Daenerys sends her furs from the North and Viserys takes her on his ship, sailing from King’s Landing to Dragonstone as much as they can.

Rhaegar, for all his follies, loves Rhaenys the way he never loved Aegon. He carries her around when he can and spoils her more than Elia. He teaches her numbers and sums and reads to her as much as possible. She looks up to him and absorbs his lessons. When he throws a tourney in her name, she kisses his cheek and Elia softens at the sight. Tourneys are not a bad memory for Queen Elia any longer.

For all the reasons Aegon hates his father, he can no longer do so after watching him with Rhaenys. She loves him fiercely and only sees the good in him. He does his best with this Rhaenys this time around and even Oberyn tries to be courteous towards him.

He wonders if she will continue to love Rhaegar when the maester teaches her history and learns of Lyanna Stark and Jon Snow.

* * *

 

Rhaenys grows up to be the pride and joy of House Targaryen and Martell. She is no longer a girl and when Rhaegar dies of a fever, Aegon declares Rhaenys his heir and Princess of Dragonstone. She is twice as smart as any man and can ride a horse with ease. She is good with a sword and twice as good with a spear, partially due to Obara’s training. She has sat by Rhaegar during many small council meetings and listens to Aegon when he explains the dynamics of various parts of the kingdom.

She is small, daring, stubborn and more than capable of ruling. His daughter is just as good as any son and she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The smallfolk love her and she keeps in contact with various ladies throughout the kingdom. She is close with Daenery’s twin girls – Rhaella and Lyarra – and has kept in touch with Arianne’s four daughters – Mariah, Nymella, Deria, and Arielle – and has even made friends with Myrcella Arryn’s children. She makes friends even more easily than he does and they cannot find fault in her or her charm.

He sometimes gazes at her and wonders how she could be the best of House Targaryen, Martell and Manwoody. She is the best of them and she will survive them with ease. He doesn’t push for her to wed anyone until she is ready and she decides her faith and he doesn’t expect anything else.

She arranges her wedding herself and he is surprised when she has chosen a Tyrell. Theon Tyrell. He is as handsome as his father and taller than his brother. He has Tully blue eyes and his father’s soft, brown hair. His is clever and quick witted. He could best his uncle with a sword easily and Elia finds his company jubilant. Most of all, Aegon sees the way he looks at his daughter and knows he will be a good husband.

It was only when Lady Sansa comes to court did he learn Theon was named in honour of Rhaenys and the son she lost. 

* * *

 

“They say I will become Rhaenyra,” she says one day. “My name sounds like hers.”

“You were not named after Princess Rhaenyra,” said Aegon.

She looks away from the mirror and flares her nose. He knows she is angry. “Yes, I am named after my aunt. She married Mace Tyrell and now I have to marry Theon Tyrell.”

Aegon stares at her for a moment. It was Rhaenys who insisted on marry Theon Tyrell. She had planned the wedding alongside Elia and Lady Tyrell.

“If you do not wish to marry Theon Tyrell, then you do not have to,” he said carefully.

“No,” she said quickly. “I shall marry him.”

Aegon raised his eyebrows. “Why do you wish to marry him?”

Rhaenys huffed and rolled her eyes. “It is what is expected of me.”

“I do not –“

“Grandfather did,” she rushed on. “He wished for me to marry a Tyrell to correct the mistakes Rhaenys did before me. He wanted to fix his mistakes and I will do so.”

“Rhaenys, you do not have to do this.”

“But I do!” she exclaimed. “After all these years, do you not notice how you all act around me? Grandmother and Lady Ashara pretend as though I am your sister. Grandfather pretended as though I was always his daughter and Obara drunkenly whispers how I look like her. Even _you_! Even you pretend as though you’re making up for a mistake years ago! You pretend as though she has never died and I am her come to life! I am not your sister, Father!”

Aegon takes a step back. “I did not… I had not noticed.”

“I notice everything,” she snapped. “I notice the way Oberyn looks at me and the way Viserys has to correct himself as though he forgets who he is speaking to. I notice the way you can’t look at me for days and pretend as though nothing is at fault whenever you speak to me as though you are speaking to _her_.”

“I speak to you as you are my daughter –“

“You do not! How… how could you not have noticed?”

Her eyes began to water and she quickly leaves her own chambers.

Had he been blind this whole time? He has hurt his daughter without noticing and made her carry a burden she should have been exempt from. Elaena would have been disappointed with him. She would have loved Rhaenys with all her heart. But he could not do that for the both of them. He could not love her without thinking of his dead sister.

His sister was dead and his daughter a near stranger. 

* * *

 

When Rhaenys fastens the Targaryen cloak over Theon’s shoulders and everyone claps, he looks over at his mother. She is crying and it easy to suggest the tears were of joy. But he has seen those tears before. He had to wipe them when word came of his sister’s death.

During the feast, he sits beside Obara as they watch Rhaenys and her new husband.

“How long will you be in her service?” he asks his cousin.

“For as long as she needs me,” said Obara. “If she wishes to dismiss me tomorrow, then so be it. I shall return to Dorne knowing that I –“

She stops for a moment and takes a sip of her wine.

“Knowing what?”

Obara takes a deep breath and looks at him. “Knowing that I have trained her until her fingers bled and she cried for a break. I wanted her to be the embodiment of House Martell. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. I did not want her to suffer the say faith as our Rhaenys had.”

He lets the words sink in and realize just how right his daughter was.

“Our Rhaenys did not die in Oldtown,” said Aegon. “Our Rhaenys is here, dancing with her husband. She is the little girl that looked up to you and she is the girl that will always need you in her service. She is our Rhaenys until she dies of an old age, surrounded by her grandchildren.” 

* * *

 

He notices everything Rhaenys has said to him and promises to correct his mistakes. He speaks to her as a Princess of Dragonstone and never brings up his sister. He gives her some of his responsibilities and she listens to the concerns of the smallfolk and that of the Northern houses. She takes her responsibilities in strides and only comes to him for help when needed.

He feels as though they can never be the same again and he wonders just how blind he could be. How could he have not noticed just how much he has hurt her? He had once promised to love her until his breath. But he had hurt her beyond recondition. He will not do so anymore.

He will undo his mistakes unless he wishes to lose yet another Rhaenys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not completely pleased with this chapter. It doesn't have Rhaenys in it but it does lay out Aegon's feelings in regards to her death and the relationship he has with his daughter. 
> 
> It does seem off when Rhaenys, his daughter blowing up on him towards the end, but I wanted to keep it in one POV and didn't want to switch. It does sort of play into Aegon being blind by the way he (and others) acts towards her and seeing nothing wrong with it as well. Take it however you wish. 
> 
> As well, Theon Tyrell is named in part for Theo (and Rhaenys) and a Stark King.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this wasn't too terrible with my grammer mistakes! Tell me if you guys want to see another AU with Rhaenys.


End file.
